Wind Whispers // 21 Words

In Autumn the wind whispers to the trees and rustles the branches with its breath, warning the trees "winter is coming."

Words. Or illustration. Or notes.

Sometimes, I need to write my thoughts down. Or draw. Or play them out. All in an attempt to understand what I was thinking. I need to read my mind. Or look at it. Or listen to it. Otherwise somethings don't make sense at all, even though I'm the one who thought them! But the thing is, when I try to write. Or draw. Or play my thoughts, I feel like I should...I don't know, change them? Clear them up a little, maybe? Somehow rewrite. Or redraw. Or replay them to make them easier to understand. Not for me but for someone else who might read. Or see. Or listen to them. To me, my thoughts seem like they might confuse other people. Maybe they are supposed to. Maybe that's what makes them mine. Maybe I shouldn't worry about how others will or will not understand my thoughts. What if I expressed myself, without changing anything to make it understandable. Maybe then, my direct thoughts can be read. Or seen. Or heard. By others and understood personally, uniquely. Maybe the unique thoughts of each person intertwine somewhere. Somewhere where we all understand pieces of each other. Or not. I don't know. This might not make sense to you at all.


Cheerio,
Angelina

Flower Pressing

I love how paper-thin the flower -a Four O'Clock- turned out. You can even see through it a little.



Angelina,
Cheerio!

A little like hope

Source: Tumblr

Quiet and complete.